


Abide with me

by apacketofseeds



Category: Vic and Bob RPF
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-22
Updated: 2017-02-22
Packaged: 2018-09-26 06:21:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9871274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apacketofseeds/pseuds/apacketofseeds
Summary: After filming the Abide With Me music video, Vic and Bob explore the farmhouse grounds.





	

**Author's Note:**

> You can watch a super shortened version of the Abide With Me music video here, if you'd like: www.youtube.com/watch?v=AXYmA1ly_g0 
> 
> (I'm taking the "facts" that pop up in the video with a pinch of salt, mainly because I prefer Vic having no familial connection to the farm in this story!)

_1991 | A Farmhouse somewhere in Yorkshire_

It was remarkable just how many people were required to shoot a music video. Vic assumed _Abide With Me_ would be a smaller production than _Born Free_ and _Dizzy_ , but there was Peter the director, Peter’s assistant, makeup artists, lighting riggers, cameramen, caterers and, for this shoot in particular, animal handlers. The only people not present, who could have been, were the location managers.

Vic had his say on many aspects of the video, mainly that he’d like to be on a horse. A farm was booked for the shoot, one usually rented for weddings and camping holidays — it didn’t actually house any animals. Footage of sheep, pigs, turkeys, and the stunt double’s trick riding had been shot previously. All they had to film today was Vic singing to the track on horseback, while Bob watched incredulously.

They had two days set aside to film, but Peter explained the second day was only a precaution; if they started early, they’d probably get everything they needed in one morning. Luckily, he was right, as just after midday, when Vic’s appaloosa was getting restless, Peter called cut and announced everyone could go home.

Just as it was remarkable how many people were involved, it was also remarkable how quickly they could all leave. The line of cars—and one horse box—parked on the farm’s driveway quickly diminished, until only three remained.

“That’s it,” Bob’s makeup artist said, while prodding the tip of his nose, “It’s all off now.” The mud—a harmless clay and water mix—came off easily with a cotton pad.

Vic stood in an archway with Sally, who was accustomed to his strange behaviour. She’d once had to make him up in thirty seconds before a recording of _Big Night Out_ because he’d locked himself in his dressing room.

“I’m actually a really good rider,” Vic explained while she rubbed his cheek with a wet wipe. “I could’ve done those stunts, they just wouldn’t let me.”

“There, all off,” Sally said, ignoring Vic’s silly boasting. “I better be off, got another client at four.”

Vic watched the girls leave, jumping into their cars and driving into the distance. He caught Bob looking over at him from his perch: the fence of one of the empty pig pens. They both seemed to realise simultaneously they were the only two left, isolated on a farm in the middle of the empty countryside.

Sauntering over to Bob, Vic asked, “Want to explore?”

Bob pulled him closer, slipping both hands around his waist. “You look good on a horse.” He leant in for a kiss.

Vic smiled into it. He knew he looked good, but it was nice to hear it from the other man. It always was.

“You look good covered in mud too.” Bob’s hands wandered, fingers creeping under Vic’s long coat to play with the shiny silk of his waistcoat back. “And yeah, let’s explore.”

Vic was glad. He’d always loved farms and this place was a wonderful contrast to his recent surroundings. He was sick of studios, lights, and audiences; he just wanted to roll around in the grass and enjoy the sunshine that had just appeared through the clouds.

“Think I saw a coal bunker on the drive up,” Vic said. “We should see if it goes underground.” He tugged Bob from the fence and took his hand, leading him through the archway.

The bunker was disappointingly small and rather empty, but it didn’t stop Vic from shoving his hand into the soot and drawing two pairs of stripes under his eyes with it. Now they were real explorers.

After walking the vast grounds, their cars and the farmhouse still in sight, they made their way towards a large barn at the edge of one of the fields.

“Don’t think we’ll get in there,” Bob said, following Vic across a field of long grass. He clearly found it harder to cross with his short legs than Vic did.

“It’s worth a try.”

The main doors were secured with a padlock and chain, but Vic knew farms, he’d worked on one for long enough before moving to London. On the barn’s east side was a split door, meant to keep horses in but allow them to see enough of the outside world to avoid feeling trapped. Farmers often forgot to lock both sections. Sure enough, when he pushed the door’s bottom section, it swung open.

“Come on!” he said, turning towards Bob who was still struggling with the field’s uneven turf.

Dropping to his knees, Vic crawled through the gap. The barn had a large open space, huge wooden beams stretching across the ceiling. Windows at each end allowed just enough light inside to see the large square bales of mesh-wrapped hay stacked up around the edges. Opposite the doors was a high wooden platform, a ladder leant against it.

Bob shuffled through the gap in the door and stood beside Vic, peering around.

“Wonder what’s up there,” he said, pointing towards the platform.

“You look,” Vic said, walking towards it. “I’ll hold the ladder.”

Aware of Vic’s fear of heights, Bob accepted the task without question. Vic stared forwards as Bob made his way up the rungs, too nervous to make eye-contact with him for fear of second-hand vertigo. Above, he heard Bob test the wood with his hand before stepping onto it. It sounded steady.

As a thought struck him, Vic knew he wouldn’t be able to resist it. Removing the ladder, he laid it on the ground beside him.

“Just more hay,” Bob confirmed from above, sounding somewhat disappointed.

Vic laughed, meeting Bob’s gaze above as he turned to look down, realising the ladder was gone.

“Vic, come on, don’t be a bastard!” He looked around quickly, presumably for alternative escape routes. “What if I did this to you eh?”

“You fell for it so easily,” Vic said, laughing again.

Suddenly, a large clump of loose hay hit him in the face. He gave Bob a sharp look, spluttering and shaking it out of his hair. “That’s not fair!”

As he looked up again, Bob lobbed another armful, sniggering.

Vic walked away, the air still raining hay, all the way to the other end of the barn. “Maybe I should just leave you in here!”

“You wouldn’t,” Bob said. Surely Bob knew never to question Vic, just as he knew never to dare him to do anything either. He’d learnt his lesson already with that one.  

Vic took a leisurely stroll towards the split door. “See you later then!”

He waved overdramatically as he exited, to the sound of Bob’s shouted concerns.

~

He didn’t think Vic would be gone for long, but after ten minutes he was starting to get annoyed.

“Vic, come on!” Bob shouted, voice echoing in the barn’s expanse. “I’m getting cold.”

He heard a sound behind him.

Turning towards the large window, he realised the sound was that of small pebbles clattering against the glass. Crossing the floorboards, clambering over a pile of hay, he peered out.

Vic stood outside below, his Leica in one hand, a handful of pebbles in the other; his soot war stripes were considerably smudged. He must’ve been back to the car to get the camera, and left his big coat there by the looks of it. Vic snapped a photo of him of laughed. It would end up on the fridge no doubt, captioned: The time I kidnapped Bob and kept him hostage in a barn.

“Let me out now?” Bob shouted, part pleading and part furious. Vic pretended he couldn’t hear and wandered off, squatting down every now and then to photograph wildflowers.

Bob loved a good prank, but this was getting out of hand. Walking to the platform’s edge, he sat down so his legs hung over it. Knowing Vic, he’d probably keep this up for hours. He better make himself comfortable.

While Bob sat twiddling his thumbs, he noticed something sticking out from the hay beside him. Pushing it aside, he discovered a rolled up rope ladder. It was tied to one of the floor beams, presumably for emergencies such as this. Shoving it over the edge, it unrolled, swaying from side to side as it hung in place. Thank God.

Testing its strength by giving it a good pull, he decided it worth the risk. It was a little awkward to climb down, but he managed.

Standing on real ground felt wonderful and Bob was ready to give Vic a proper telling off. Perhaps he’d creep up behind him while he snapped his photos and scare him senseless. As he schemed his revenge, he noticed the original ladder on the ground beside him. A prank of his own came immediately to mind.

~

Vic checked his watch. Bob must have been up there for about forty minutes now; it was probably time to let him back down. Turning towards the barn, he looked up at the window to see if Bob was still glaring at him. He wasn’t, but the photograph would capture his hilarious scowl for eternity.

Crawling back through the stable door, he announced his return. “Honey! I’m home!”

There was no response: no laughter, no cursing, and no pleas from Bob. There was only silence. Placing the camera down by the door, he walked over to the ladder.

“The prisoner will now be released from solitary confinement!” he shouted, a hint of German militant to his voice. He hoped Bob wouldn’t be too mad. It was only a joke after all. “The prisoner will be freed on one condition,” he continued. He picked the ladder up and peered at the platform. He couldn’t hear Bob moving around. He was probably trying to get his own back by ignoring him. “Prisoner, respond!”

Nothing. There was no way he was going up there, he wouldn’t fall for that, but he was starting to worry. Laying the ladder down he walked to the other end of the barn, standing on his tiptoes to try and see where Bob was hiding.

“Bob?”

Bob appeared suddenly from behind a bale. Grabbing Vic from behind, he forced a yelp out of him before slamming him face first against the barn doors. The chains rattled on the other side and Vic gasped. It wasn’t just the shock of Bob’s appearance, but the fact he’d pushed him so forcibly.

“Don’t ever do that again,” Bob warned. He spun Vic around, digging fingertips into his arms as he kept him pinned.

Vic’s eyes widened, Bob’s body pushed firm to his. “I won’t,” he said weakly, a spark of genuine fear in his stomach. He’d never seen Bob look so angry.

Bob’s hand crept down Vic’s front then, the other still holding him in place, until it cupped his crotch. Feeling it twitch in his hand he looked up at Vic with a smirk.

“I think you owe me an apology.” He raised his chin as he spoke, looking into Vic’s eyes while his grip tightened on his groin.

Vic was hard in an instant.

Taking his hand from Vic’s groin, Bob clicked his fingers and pointed at the bales of hay beside them.  “On your back.”

Biting his lip, Vic did as he was told. His arm hurt from where Bob had gripped it; Bob was never this demanding or heavy-handed. It left his head spinning. He was usually a careful, gentle lover, always putting Vic’s comfort first. While this was a different side of him, it was nothing but exciting.

Once Vic lay back on the hay, Bob climbed on top of him eagerly, grabbing him by his hair and pulling him into a kiss with some force. The kiss was wonderful: open-mouthed and deep, but Bob controlled it completely. He bit Vic’s bottom lip hard before pulling back. Climbing off their makeshift bed, he stood and gazed at Vic’s body, eyeing him up and down leisurely.

“Get your trousers off,” he demanded, unbuttoning his long coat and throwing it over a bale.

While Bob watched, Vic undressed quickly. He’d gone commando, so once he’d kicked off his shoes, his bottom half was bare but for a pair of black socks. He didn’t know what to expect, but Bob seemed sure of what he wanted as he was already unbuttoning his flies.

“Do y’know what happens to naughty boys who play silly pranks?” Bob asked, his voice deep.

Vic shook his head, staring at Bob’s crotch as he slipped his erection through his open fly. He’d definitely like to find out, though.

Grabbing Vic again, Bob pushed him onto his knees. When he pulled his head to his groin, Vic understood. Parting his lips, mouth already watering, he took Bob’s cock into his mouth. Bob groaned as Vic angled his head, giving him both a better view and a better angle to fuck his mouth. But Bob didn’t seem to want that. Instead, he dragged Vic’s head up and down his length by his hair, forcing his cock all the way to the back of his throat.

“God, that’s it,” Bob breathed, closing his eyes and lolling his head back. He enjoyed Vic’s mouth for a while, but after a few minutes pulled him to his feet.

“Am I forgiven now?” Vic asked, smiling weakly.

Bob shook his head. “Nowhere near.”

Vic licked his lips, desperate to be taught the lesson he deserved. He didn’t have to wait long, as Bob promptly shoved him over the hay until his arse was displayed lewdly. Firm hands pushed him down, his cock shoved against coarse straw. As Bob kicked his feet apart Vic whimpered, his legs hanging indelicately over the edge of the bale — he was so exposed and barely containing his excitement.

Bob wouldn’t usually fuck Vic without lube—and he’d usually worry about hurting him, even with it—but he was angry, and even though this role-play was exciting, Vic expected he’d find it hard to care about his feelings after being trapped in a barn for the past hour. Vic shuddered at the sound of Bob spitting, shortly followed by the hot slide of saliva down the cleft of his arse. Bob had never been so obscene before and it made Vic’s cock throb. Then there were Bob’s fingers, shoving his spit into him roughly. Vic pressed his face into the hay to conceal a groan. Bob had gone straight in with two fingers, breaching him without thought for his comfort. When Bob withdrew his fingers and spat again, Vic bit his lip. There was something so undignified about all this. He loved it.

Looking over his shoulder, Vic saw Bob spit into his own hand, smearing his cock with his wet palm. Whimpering, he dropped his forehead against the hay again as Bob pushed in slowly. Grabbing a fistful of hay, he gripped tightly. Bob usually worried, was usually so gentle, and if Vic so much as winced he’d slow down — he ignored him now, pushing deep until Vic could do nothing but groan, the ache of Bob’s depth like he was being split in two.

If Bob wasn’t responding to his reactions, he’d test him, see how far he was willing to go with this act: he’d make _a lot_ of noise.

When Bob found a gentle rhythm, Vic hissed and gasped with every thrust, biting his lip. These were natural reactions, and they weren’t enough. Letting out a dramatic and pained “Ahhh!” he balled his fists, hoping for a reaction. Bob gave none.

After a few of these bitten-out sounds, Bob stopped. Vic smiled to himself, deciding Bob couldn’t bear hearing them. But then he pulled out, flipped Vic onto his back, and sank his hips between his thighs again.

Vic arched his back, moaning as Bob slipped back in. He thrust again, harder than before, the sound of their thudding bodies loud in the empty barn. Vic felt his cheeks getting hot and turned away. He hadn’t tricked Bob into slowing at all, far from it. As he panted, Bob wrapped a hand around his neck and squeezed moderately hard. Vic whimpered, eyes wide as he looked up at Bob: his lip was pulled between his teeth as he pounded into him. Lifting Vic by his throat, he pulled him into a kiss, grip softening, his hand moving to the back of his head.

Bob came hard as Vic tongued his mouth. The kiss was limp, barely there, but it was enough. Vic felt Bob filling him, his come overflowing and dripping into the hay there was so much of it.

“I’m so sorry,” Vic said, desperate to come too. He hoped Bob would continue fucking him; he really wouldn’t need much to get there.

“Good,” Bob said, sliding out and lying beside Vic on the hay.

After a minute or so, Vic started pushing his hips into Bob’s side, making his erection obvious. Bob knew he hadn’t come, but seemed decided to ignore it.

“Bob?” Vic whispered, pressing his wet lips to the other man’s cheek. His body twitched with need, fingers clawing at Bob’s sleeve. “Bob… I didn’t come.”

“I know.”

Shocked, Vic suddenly realised how pathetic and needy he seemed. Bob appeared not to give a fuck — Vic loved it. He’d beg as long as he could; the humiliation only made him harder.

“Finish me off?” Nestling his face into the crook of Bob’s shoulder, he sucked on his neck softly, pushing the hard, hot length of his erection into his hip. “Please?”

Bob tried to resist, but Vic always got around him. Quickly, he tugged Vic’s leg across his lap and reached into the space between them. Fingering him softly, he breathed encouragement into Vic’s ear. As expected, it didn’t take long, and Vic clawed at Bob’s shoulders as he came into his hand, his short moans turning into one long stream of sound.

Exhausted, they lay on the hay for a while, getting their breath back.

Finally, Vic spoke. “If you’re like that when I piss you off, I’ll have to do it more often!” He kissed Bob softly, raising a hand to his hair, tugging it softly with weak hands.

“You like it like that, huh?”

“Mmhmm,” Vic said, nodding eagerly. He kissed Bob again, not wanting their intimacy to end yet.

“Did I hurt you?”

“A bit.” Vic hoped Bob would feel guilty, but not enough to put him off doing something like this again.

When Bob stroked Vic’s face with his thumb, kissing the end of his nose, Vic considered it an apology.

After a while of lazing on the hay, Bob suggested they get home. Vic re-dressed his bottom half, wincing at how his legs ached while stepping back into his trousers. The ache would be a pleasant reminder of what they’d gotten up to and would probably last the whole drive back.

As they walked towards the barn door, Vic remembered the ladder — it’d be rude not to put it back how it was.

“Hang on,” Vic said, eyebrows furrowing. “How the hell’d you get down?”

Bob smirked. “That’s for me to know and you to worry about.”


End file.
